January 31, 2005

Jury selection began today in Michael Jackson’s trial for alleged child molestation. Predictably, Jackson’s supporters (all of them absolutely certain of his innocence) and his detractors (all of them absolutely certain of his guilt) were out in force in front of the California courthouse. So too were a gazillion members of the media. Does any of this sound familiar? If you said “O.J.,” you win the kewpie doll.

As in the O.J. case, we have a high profile, black (sort of) defendant charged with the commission of an awful crime, who insists that he is absolutely innocent, and who is represented by high-profile lawyers. Jackson’s father has already played the race card outside the courtroom, and it is just a matter of time before the same tactic is employed inside the courtroom. The police will be depicted as racist dolts who will do or say anything to get an conviction, and the victim will be vilified as being nothing more than an unwitting dupe of his money-hungry parents.

I imagine that the cable news networks are looking forward to “The Jackson Trial 24/7,” and the people at Court TV will be jazzing up their resumes, hoping for a network gig when this is all over.

The fact is that every day, all over the country, people are tried for the same offense that Jackson is alleged to have committed. A jury is selected, the prosecution puts on its case, the defense puts on its case, and a verdict is rendered. And, this is all accomplished without any fanfare.

It wasn’t because he did not want to be Governor. He would like to be Governor.

It wasn’t because he did not have the ability to be Governor, because he has demonstrated that he is qualified for the job.

It wasn’t because he is unpopular, because, a recent poll shows him to be quite popular.

It wasn’t because he is a louse with a big ego and an even bigger personal agenda, because, by all accounts, Richard Codey is a good and decent man, who apparently has brought a modicum of stability to the mess that Governor McGreevey left behind.

It wasn’t because his family didn’t want him to run, because the majority of his family did want him to run.

No, it wasn’t any of those things.

Richard Codey decided not to run, because he can’t afford it.

Governor Codey conceded that there is no way that he could raise enough money between now and the June democrat primary to defeat New Jersey’s Do-Nothing U.S. Senator Jon Corzine, who has done nothing to advance his qualifications for the Governor’s job other than to say he wants it.

It is estimated that Codey would have to raise $10 million by June in order to be competitive in the primary and, even then, he would likely be outspent by four to one by Jon Corzine. Corzine, as you will recall, spent $63 million of his own money to win his U.S. Senate Seat in 2000, and he has indicated that he would be funding the primary campaign against Codey.

For the last two weeks, Senator Corzine has been wooing state and county democrat party leaders, no doubt reminding them that, over the last three years, he has donated $1.1 million to county and state democrat organizations. It is not too great a stretch to imagine that he promised them that, in exchange for their support, there would be more money on the way.

Jon Corzine, who had bought himself a Senate seat, apparently has become bored with being having only one vote in a club (exclusive though it may be) with one hundred members. Having done virtually nothing for the State of New Jersey while in the Senate, like a petulant, rich brat, he now wants a new toy – the governorship, and it’s his for the buying.

January 29, 2005

Too Many Clothes: The weather has been sufficiently cold this past week or so that I have to wear a big, fat down-filled parka. It keeps me warm, but I hate having to wear the thing. I really hate having to drive in it. It is confining and renders your pants pockets inaccessible. The sad fact is that it is only necessary to keep from freezing until the car warms up and then to walk from the car to work. Shopping is a bitch too, because you need the coat to get to the store, but you really don’t need it once inside the store. I usually wind up sweating my stindeens off in the produce aisle. I long for tee shirt and shorts weather.

Gloves: This is sort of a subset of “Too many clothes.” If you’re outside for any length of time, you really need them, but I hate wearing the damned things. The problem is that if you need to do anything that requires more dexterity than wielding a snow shovel, you have to take them off anyway. As for driving, I simply cannot drive with gloves on. Any gloves thin and supple enough to permit comfortably driving in them (until the car warms up) won’t keep your hands warm anyway, so why bother. Then, there’s the problem of carrying the damned things around. They fill your pockets, and invariably one of them gets lost. Gloves are a pain in the ass.

Walking: Walking in the winter is a pain in the ass, because you have to keep your eyes fixed on the stretch of sidewalk five or six feet in front of you in order to be able to spot icy patches. Failure to do this could result in your doing a face-plant on the sidewalk.

Baby Steps: Once you see a patch of ice ahead and there’s no way to avoid it, you have to resort to taking little baby steps to keep your center of gravity over your feet. This is a particular treat when the slush freezes solid and the ice takes the form of a solid version of a rough sea. One wrong step could land you in the emergency room. Taking baby steps also makes you look like the farookin’ “Walnetto Guy” on Rowan and Martin’s Laugh-In (for you folks old enough to remember “Laugh-In”). Baby steps are a pain in the ass.

Cruddy Looking Cars: My big, beautiful, fat, black, capitalist car is currently not black, but rather “road salt white.” It looks like hell. I hate it, but it makes no sense getting it washed, because it will look like shit again within twenty-four hours. Pain in the ass.

Potholes: These appear by the thousands at this time of year, and they are always a bone-jarring surprise. Some of them are big enough to damn near swallow your wheel and thereby cost you a tire, or a wheel, or worse, not to mention make you spill your coffee. Yet another pain in the ass.

Cabin Fever: Horseshit weather keeps folks at home. Last weekend, for example, other than spending “quality time” with Mr. Snow blower, I was in the house from Friday after work until Monday morning. Hell, we didn’t even open the Post Bar on Sunday. Right about now, I could use a warm breeze, a drink, and a good book outside on the deck. Dream on, Jimbo.

And finally, a word to the folks from the South (where I would prefer to be at this moment) who sometimes drive up North in the winter (God knows why): See that white stuff on the road? That’s snow, and it’s slippery. See the grayish stuff on the street? That’s ice, and it’s seriously slippery. Driving really, really fast on that stuff is a bad idea and slamming on your brakes while on it is a worse idea, and it will provide you with an instant physics lesson on the subject of inertia. Oh, and your four-wheel drive is useless as shit on ice. When the roads are snow and ice-covered and I see a car bearing Florida plates, I break my ass to get as far away as possible. I hate the sound of crunching metal and breaking glass. That’s a real pain in the ass.

5. Who are you gonna pass this stick to (four persons and why)?Acidman because he has excellent taste in music
Blake (The Laughing Wolf) because he has a keen artistic senseShamrocketship because she’s a Jersey Girljmflynny because she has a cool name, and she may be called upon if I get lost in Jacksonville.

I was just a captive viewer to a bit of American Idol. Obviously some of those people were selected to “audition” before the judges to please the segment of the television audience that likes to watch train wrecks and listen to breaking glass.

January 25, 2005

I’ll think about a rental car tomorrow. I use priceline.com, and the Three Bourbon Rule prevents me from screwing around with Priceline at this moment, lest I wind up booking a Cadillac for three days in Nome, Alaska and having to pay for the farookin’ thing.

I suspect that I will be otherwise occupied tonight, thanks to this doll, who is the evil genius behind this.